Drowning in Corruption
by TillThatTime
Summary: “You love this feeling that you can’t get anywhere else. Sam would never touch you the way I do, make you arch into it like the slut that I know is hiding under those modest clothes. You hate me, but at least I make you feel.”'.... the dark side of Dasey
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Life With Derek.

**A/N: **This is probably the only main focus Dasey that I will write because there is entirely too many of them. Hopefully this one wont be cliché, and it shows a dark side to the pairing of Derek and Casey that I haven't really seen portrayed all that much. Much Love!

TillThatTime

P.S. One-shot, unless requested otherwise.

**WARNING: **Not for the fluff lovers out there. Dark them. Cursing. Sexual themes. FLAMES ARE TOO AMUSING TO PASS UP.

* * *

**I'll Gladly Let You Fall **

"This is what you do, Derek. You destroy the world until it's as fucked up as you and then wonder why it can't be fixed!"

She screamed those words at him, throwing any object that was in her reach, and when there was nothing left she used her fists instead.

"I pity you, Derek, because in the end you'll only have yourself to blame. In the end you'll be all alone and who the _fuck_ will care then?" Each word shot from her mouth in a fury all their own. They were meant to hurt him, he knew. They were meant to make him think and feel and _just give a damn, _but Derek Venturi just stared at her with a smile tugging at his lips that never reached his eyes.

He didn't quite remember what he had said to start the fight, nor did he really care. Scathing words had been tossed around like a tennis ball, manipulating the rules of their little game with each harsh insult.

Empty threats and slanders that should never be said had made their way into the full blown conflict and in the end he had broken her. It was a game that he had become so fond of playing over the past few years. He found cold elation in hurting her because the result was crudely pleasant.

He reveled in moments that would work her up like this. He found pleasure in the fact that he brought this out of her, brought her over the edge with one, smug smirk. He didn't love her but he loved what he did her.

She continued to pound on his chest, shouting every obscenity that came to her mind, until he finally halted her with one quick grab of her wrists. In an instant he had her pressed against his wall, and from the closeness he felt her breath hitch.

"What crude words come out of that pretty, little mouth of yours." He crooned into her ear, and without even having to look at her face he knew that her eyes were closed tightly shut.

"No, Derek…" Her voice trembled as she tried to break away from his grasp. He held on more tightly, smirking at her weak defense.

"Ah, what happened to that strong front I heard only a minute ago?" His voice was soft but she had no problems hearing him. He switched her wrists to one hand as his other crawled along the inside of her thigh. Instinctively she arched into him, and he knew that she hated herself for doing it. A smirk graced his lips.

"You really shouldn't talk to me like that. I might get angry at you." He scolds, though both know that his words are a lie.

"You'd have to have feelings in the first place." She said with a sneer that dropped quickly from her face when he clasped his hands quickly onto her waist and pulled her roughly against him, the contact causing her to groan and an almost painful twitch in his groin.

"Do you feel that?" He asked her, his breath becoming shallow as she pressed even further into him. A small whimper escaped her lips and he found glorious self-satisfaction for learning every tick she had, everyway to fuck her up in a sensual, sadistic way. He lowered his mouth to hers, catching her bottom lip between his teeth, but to his surprise, she pushed him away roughly.

"Fuck you, Derek. Looks like you'll be jacking off by yourself tonight." She pulled away from him but he held her fast, his fingers digging into her sides.

" I jack off to a lot of things." He said through gritted teeth.. "Sometimes to filthy magazines that hide under my bed, sometimes to a girl that I passed by on the street, but do you want to know something dear sister?" He said the last words in a less than platonic way, before burring his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he spoke. "I always say your name in the end." She felt an all too familiar sensation in between her legs that made her feel dirty and all too delirious to even care.

"I'm with, Sam" She said, in a pathetic attempt that had never worked in the past. She always said these words before they fucked, because in her mind she had the vague hope that saying it would hurt Derek and he would realize just how wrong this all was.

"And I fucked your best friend and didn't even bat an eyelash when I left her to go fuck you." She glared at him then, unwanted tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"I hate you, Derek." She said in absolute truth and he merely smiled.

"Yes, but you _love _this." He cupped her breast then, his thumb ran over the tip and his eyes never left hers. "You love this feeling that you can't get anywhere else. Sam would never touch you the way I do, make you arch into it like the slut that I know is hiding under those modest clothes. You hate me, but at least I make you feel."

"Why do you do this to me?" She said in between tears and moans as his fingers slipped down her stomach and past the waistband of her pants.

"Because I want to see what it's like to corrupt the world." He said resolutely before capturing her lips in a brutal kiss. There was no love to be shared in the kiss, because in truth, there was never any love in the first place. Just her need to feel his hands on her skin and his urge to play with fire. Their tongues battled for dominance and his fingers teased her in ways that would make her blush later on in the confines of her room. Lips were bruised by nips of teeth and soft cries were lost in the heat of it all. She hated him through it all and that was the only part of her that he loved.

He began to pull the top of her pants slowly down her thighs, running the tips f his fingers along her skin in the process. He was caught off guard when she pulled away from him suddenly, her breath heavy and her hair tussled around her flushed checks. "No. Not again, I can't let you do this to me again." She told him, her face hard and her voice strong, but her eyes told the real truth. He grinned at her then, pulling her against him one last time, his lips brushed against hers as he spoke, sending shivers racing along her spine. "You'll be back."

She left him standing there with a slam of his door.

He laid in his bed later on that night, waiting. It didn't matter how long he waited because it would always pay off in the end, _always. _he didn't stop the snicker that seeped through his teeth as he heard his door creak open in the silent air that surrounded him. He felt her body press into him as she crawled onto him. He couldn't see her face but he felt her tears as one fell onto his cheek. He pulled her close to him and began to discard her of her clothes and he knew without seeing that her eyes were closed the entire time, because she wouldn't look at him, wouldn't face the truth that he had completely fucked her up. He would feel shame, he would feel pity, if Derek Venturi felt anything at all.


	2. Coldhearted

**Disclaimer: **Yup, I'm pretty sure I own jack-squat.

**A/N: **Ok, I decided to continue since the first chapter did pretty well. This chapter is appalling short however, and I do apologize. I promise the next one should be substantially longer, I'm just a little busy currently. Ok, just so you know, Derek is an ass in this. That is the way he is supposed to be in my story and that is the persona that I created for him. This is dark and if you find that you really can't handle dark-themed stories, then please don't read this.

Cheers and much love!

Danielle

**Warning: **Take r-rating seriously please. Not for kids.

* * *

**Cold-hearted**

She's there.

Somewhere in the sweat and curses and tears, she's there beneath him, panting, smelling of sex, and radiating a hatred that she could only feel for him.

"Get out." His voice is low and his lips are inches from hers. He can feel her intake of breath at his words and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before he rolls heavily off her trembling body and points resolutely towards the door.

"You make me sick." Her voice is shaking, and whether it be from rage or shock, he couldn't care less. He grabs her elbow halting her movements and she turns the face him sharply.

"Hey Case, thanks for the sex."

His cheek is suddenly stinging and it takes him a second to notice her hand still raised and the look of shock written clearly across her features. He can feel the trickle of blood running down his cheek from where her manicured fingernails had grazed across his skin. Neither move for a moment, both too shocked to do anything but stare, and then suddenly she is pulled on top of him, his rough fingers holding her chin and his hot breath against her skin.

"You want to know something, Casey? I couldn't give a _shit _about you. You mean nothing. You _are _nothing. You're just another way to relieve some tension." He makes sure to punch every word. To make sure that she knows just exactly where she stands. And then his lips are on hers. His kiss is rough, bruising and dominate, and he feels her tears against his own cheeks. He pulls away sharply, admiring the redness of her eyes and the bruising already showing on her swollen lips.

"You really are beautiful, my sister." The look of confusion is evident on her pretty fingers and he lets out a harsh laugh. "Now, get out."

She is out the door in a matter of seconds and she doesn't even take the time to pull on her clothes. He folds his hands behind his head as he watches her leave, a smirk permanently plastered on his lips.

He really does love this.

Not her.

Just the power that he has over her.

He realizes fully just how much he has fucked her up over the past few years, and he relishes in the sight of his handiwork beneath him almost every night, crying as he thrusts into her and helpless to give up the feeling that only he can give to her.

Sometimes he wonders why he doesn't feel shame for what he does. Why he has no problems falling asleep after he fucks her. Why the image of tears streaming down her face does not alight some feeling of guilt. And other times he doesn't even bother wondering, because Derek Venturi has better things to do then worry about guilt and pity.

He doesn't hide himself around her. At school he puts on the façade of the popular guy who, while he dates quite a number of them, actually treats girls with respect. He pays the check on dates. He listens to their endless babble, and even holds the door open for them. Of course, all of this is just to get into their pants, but at least they are treated well in the process. But around her, there's no reason for any of that. He can be the cold-hearted bastard that he truly is, and she'll still come crawling back. Casey Macdonald, women's rights extraordinaire, who doesn't take shit from anybody, is completely tangled up in a web of hypocrisy, and it's all because of him.

He feels quite proud really.

He can hear her sobs through the thin walls of his bedroom and notices that the sound of her cries relaxes him. He slips further beneath the warmth of his covers and his eyes close as he listens to his own personal lullaby seeping into his ears.

If he strains hard enough he can hear the repeated phrase "I hate you" coming from the lips that both curse him and kiss him and he laughs softly to himself before turning over one his side and whispering.

"Don't I know it, Case."


	3. Toy

Disclaimer: Jesus Christ, this is mundane…don't own.

A/N:I'm back! Run and hide bitches. Heh, just kidding, I love you guys. Anyways, as I've said before, Derek is a bastard in my fic, and no, there is no redeeming chapter where he realizes that he's truly in love with Casey and they live happily ever after. Let's be realistic here. However, come on, isn't my Derek a little more fun as a sadistic bastard rather then when he's caring and loveable?…..eh, at least I think so….not that caring and loveable Derek is bad. ducks flying objects…Heh, I sound like Machiavelli.

Whoa, and by the way... I had no idea I was nominated for best dark fic and best author...I stumbled upon it the other day and was like "Holy shit, fuck up the characters and you win a prize!"...anyways, thanks for that.

Cheers and much love!

TillThatTime

Warnings: Smexy darkness!

**Toy**

"Let me fuck you."

His lips are pressed to the shell of her ear and as his warm breath ghosts over her sensitive skin she shudders. "Come on dear sister, let me fuck you _so_ hard into that mattress right over there." Without so much of a turn of his head, he points lazily to the mattress adorned with her blankets and decorative throw pillows. "So hard that the next time Sam fucks you on that bed it will be my name that slips from your pretty, little tongue."

He runs the tip of his thumb gently against her gloss-stained lips in what appears to be mock fondness before she jerks her head away in apparent disgust. He lets out a harsh, humorless laugh before tapping his finger against the tip of her nose. "Tsk tsk, Casey, that's not very polite."

"Get out." Her voice is cold as she points towards the door.

Before she can say anything he snakes his hands around her waist before coming to rest on the underside of her ass, pulling her hips roughly against his own. She lets out a gasp that cannot be fully blamed on surprise and his smirk widens, stretching his lips into that familiar look that she hates so much. He leans his head down until his lips a barely touching hers and against her will she instinctively tries to close the distance, but he pulls just out of reach. So close that she feels his breath mingling with her own but too far to reach.

"Slut."

He says it so softly that she would not be able to hear it if she wasn't so close. He draws out the words, letting them slide like honey from the tongue of a snake. His voice is almost endearing, yet taunting and cruel in its false affection. He turns suddenly and without so much as another word or a glance in her direction he exits her room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

She lets her body slide to the floor, finally letting the legs that had been trembling ever since he had entered the room have their relief against soft carpet. She breathes out slowly, willing her body to calm, her expression to remain passive, and her mind to shut off completely.

But of course, neither of these wishes are granted.

A tear falls tauntingly down her cheek and she moves to brush it violently away, her nails scraping along the sensitive skin of her cheek. She bites her lip hard enough to draw the coppery taste of blood to ensure that the cry of rage and humiliation doesn't escape from her mind and out her mouth.

It would be so much easier if she didn't have to think.

If she didn't have her treacherous mind replaying images of his bruising grip on her hips or his even crueler sneer of domination. When her mother had told her that she was to be moving in with the Venturis never had she thought that it would turn out like this. Never had she thought that she would become the abused plaything that always seems to ask for more. Whenever Derek needs a good, hard fuck he always comes to Casey, because with her he doesn't have to work for it. He doesn't have to make false promises of devotion and love. He doesn't have to treat her like a real person, with respect and care. All he has to do is want her and she comes willingly like some bitch in heat.

She's his favorite toy.

She used to pride herself for her independence. She used to be someone who wouldn't take shit from anybody if she didn't have to, and with Derek she really doesn't _have to_, yet she jumps readily to his will. She's a former shell of the previous glorified Casey McDonald who's been willingly beat into submission. And why is that? Why does she throw away every notion that she's based her life on for a few sessions of fucking and cruel words?

Because it feels good.

"You love this feeling that you can't get anywhere else. Sam would never touch you the way I do, make you arch into it like the slut that I know is hiding under those modest clothes. You hate me, but at least I make you feel."

And that's true.

When Sam makes love to her that's exactly what it is, _making love_. He's gentle and sweet and always asks her if she's sure. His hands trail nervously against her skin as if she's delicate and he's afraid of breaking her, and she doesn't _feel _it. She wants to, _needs_ to feel it, but she doesn't.

Derek fucks her.

His nips along her skin are demanding and harsh. His body pressed against hers is hard and unforgiving. And the tempo is fast and relentless or slow and taunting, but never kind, never sweet, never loving.

And God, it feels so good.

Sam persuades her lovingly into fake moans for his benefit.

Derek makes her scream.

He often refers to her as a masochist and though she loathes the bitter taste that that word leaves in her mouth, she cannot deny the fact that perhaps it's true. Doesn't a masochist crawl wantonly to the very hand that slaps them? Doesn't a masochist cry out for more in the face of cruel punishment? Doesn't a masochist long for the very pain that brings them so much pleasure?

Yes, she is indeed a masochist.

But it goes beyond that, because at some point they have to say no. It becomes too much and then the game is over, but for her it never ends. And she hates this foul game that she participates in, but she continues to step up to the plate. She hates him and he hates her, but they continue to play the lover's game. Him, for the power that only a sadist craves and her, for the pleasure that only a masochist desires.

"Slut"

Yes, she muses through her tears, that word fits perfectly.


	4. Veil

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Life With Derek or the Lyrics to Nine Inch Nail's Closer.

**A/N:** New chapter. Heh, I love Closer. Thank you to all my lovely reviews. You guys rock!

**Warning:** Dark, sadistic and very sexual theme. I am not your mother so I really can't stop you, but if you are underage , or not mature enough to read this, I highly suggest hitting the back button. BDSM.

* * *

**Veil**

It is always interesting to watch him interact with Marti.

In her attempts to build a strong enough barrier against him, traits that only she has noticed have slipped through her poorly built walls to be memorized and categorized in her traitorous brain. She grudgingly has come to learn things about him that others, who pine disgustingly for his affections, would be delighted to know. One of the most important of these is the fact that Derek hardly ever truly smiles.

Many would argue that he smiles quite often, but there's a difference between a smile and a simple tug of the lips that doesn't reach the eyes. It's not hard to figure out why he fakes it. Why he hides himself behind a false charm. It's one of the oldest tricks of building self image.

Wear a veil so no one sees the fangs.

What would happen if people were to see the sadist behind those pearly whites? What would happen if he didn't hold up the act, and the world saw what type of man Derek Venturi really is? No, that wouldn't do at all.

So he fakes it.

And Casey would laugh at the fact that Derek is actually a damn good actor, if the punch-line was funny at all.

However, with Marti the smiles come easy and frequent. Whether it's a simple pat on the head or a full blown game of Hide 'n Seek, they're real, genuine, simple to Casey's eyes. If Derek loves anyone in his fucked up mind it's Marti.

He's human after all.

That fact is something that hits Casey hard. It doesn't take proof of his blood to show Casey that he is in fact human, it just takes a smile. Something that is so frequently seen and taken for granted in everyday life.

As she watches the two play together she _almost_ forgets the Derek that has brought her to her knees figuratively and literally so many times before. She _almost_ forgets the Derek that takes delight in watching her crumble.

She almost forgets.

But it only takes a moment for her to remember. It only takes one second of pause in the game that he's playing with Marti for brown eyes to meet hers and for a pink tongue to dart out from a parted mouth to run suggestively over lips and she remembers. She remembers it all so well as she bolts from the room to find refugee in her on room, protected from the devil behind a locked door.

She picks up a book randomly from the shelf and thumbs through the familiar pages of Pride and Prejudice. Ah, one of her favorites. Books, she loves to read books. It's easy to forget yourself in between the lines of strategically placed words. She sinks into the pages, into a world were chivalry is not yet dead.

Until she is yanked roughly away from that world.

The beat from the loud music penetrates through her walls and into her head. A familiar beat, to a familiar song. One that she dreads to hear, because she knows he only plays it for her.

_You let me violate you_

_You let me desecrate you_

_You let me penetrate you_

_You let me complicate you._

She slams her fist into the wall in frustration, the words ringing in her head as if trying to mock her. She hates that song. Hates it because _he_ loves it. Hates it because he loves what it suggests to her. Hates it because it so much more then mere lyrics. _You let me complicate you_.

She pulls her headphones out from under her bed and slams them almost forcefully into her ears. Not really caring what music is playing, only attempting to block the other music out.

It isn't long before she's lost herself in the flow of the music that blares from her headphones. It's peaceful like this. It's nice to close her eyes and forget. It's a wonderful thing to not have to think.

That is until she feels a hand sliding up her leg.

She opens her eyes abruptly as she jumps from the unwanted touch, barely managing to suppress a scream. There he is, sitting comfortably on her bed, hand still resting on her leg , as if waiting patiently to slide further up.

"I locked the door." She says quietly, her tone icy as she slips the headphones from her ears. A feral grin sets itself upon his handsome features as he holds up a small, black hairpin.

Bastard.

"Get out." If possible her tone has become even colder, but his grin only widens as he moves closer to her.

"Now Case, since when has that ever worked?" His hands come to rest on her shoulders before pushing against them until she finds her back against the mattress with the devil himself hovering over her. His hands are on either side of her head now and she barely registers her legs opening wider to accommodate him. "So why don't we just skip that part and move on to me fucking you into this mattress?" His lips hover dangerously close to hers and shivers slightly as she feels his breath caress her skin.

"Get the fuck off of me." She tries to keep her voice free of the tremor that she is sure is there, but fails miserably in doing so.

"Oh but Casey, I want to fuck you like an animal." She would laugh at the cheesiness of this statement if it weren't for the small detail of his hips rolling rhythmically into hers as if confirming his words.

"Derek, I said get off me." These words are meant to be commanding. They are meant to have power and determination laced tightly around them but they come off as mere gasps and pleas as he ducks his head down to take her bottom lips between his teeth, biting down until he tastes coppery blood, and then sucking gently as if in apology. He pulls back to look at her, and he notices the way her lip swells and trembles, before he leans in again, this time his hot breath ghosting across her ear.

"Tell me something Casey. Why don't you fight this harder? If you hate this so much, why don't you push me off of you? Why don't you call for help? Kick me in the balls? Do something, _anything_? Why instead do you use stupid fucking little words that you know wont have any effect?" His hand has slid up to lightly cup one her breasts and his eyes scan her face as she gasps as he grazes his thumb across the tip, already feeling it harden through the fabric of her shirt. "You're so responsive to it all." Against her will she feels her cheeks heat at his words and she turns her face away from him. He grabs her chin almost roughly, forcing her to look back at him. "Look at me!" She finds herself obeying him as his hand moves to make work of the buttons of her shirt.

He leans down to lick a trail along the line of her jaw and back up to the shell of her ear before continuing on with the words that are meant to break her even further. "Do you touch yourself to the image of Sam? When he fucks you do you scream?"

"He doesn't fuck me, he makes love to-"

"Do you scream, Casey? Do you tremble under his touch like some wanton whore? Do you claw at his back and plead for him fuck you harder, faster? Does he slam into you so hard that tears come to your eyes? And not because you're in pain, though you very well may be, but because you love it? Because you can't get enough of it? Because it feels so fucking good that nobody could ever begin to compare? Does he tie your wrists to the bed frame? Does he know what a little masochist likes to hide behind that wall you put up? Does he flip you over and pound into you until it's not even worth the effort it takes to hold back the screams?" And suddenly deft hands are unfastening her jeans and sliding them down her hips and she doesn't even move to stop him, lost in the words he whispers in her ear. "Does he fuck you like I do?"

She can't think. She doesn't want to think. She's doesn't want to have to acknowledge his words, to voice a truth she can't even bring to admit herself.

But he can see it in her eyes.

He's won.

"Answer me, Casey. Does Sam fuck you like I do?" One of his hands reaches out to firmly grip her wrists as his other hand pulls a length of cloth from his back pocket. She watches in a daze as skilled hands work to tie her hands to the headboard behind her. She shivers, a surge of excitement that she cannot deny racing through her. "Answer the question, Case."

"No, no he doesn't." And the look of triumph that falls across his face makes her want to vomit. He's destroyed her and it seems that nothing in the world could make him happier. "Why do you do this Derek?"

"Easy question. Why does the kid hold the magnify glass over the ant pile? It's fun to hold destruction in your hands." His teeth latch on to the sensitive skin of her collar bone and she attempts to hold back the moan that rises in her throat, but he is careful not to leave a mark.

"What if I said I didn't want this?" He stops abruptly, his eyes darting up to focus on hers, before his hand snakes down to her ass to push her hips roughly the only proof that he feels anything for her.

"Then I'd have to punish you for lying."

"What if I said I hated you?"

He laughs against the skin of her neck before reaching down to unfasten his own belt. "That, my dear sister, is a truth I know all to well."


	5. The Games We Play

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Life with Derek

**A/N: **Thanks for the lovely reviews!

**Warning:** As you should know, this is a mature fic, and there's a reason why it's rated high.

**The Games We Play**

He hadn't touched her in awhile.

In fact, it had been nearly two weeks since the last time he had laid his hands on her, and she was loathed to admit that she had been counting. It was odd really, to go for so long without the feel of his hands sliding along the inside of her thighs or his lips pressed against the sensitive areas of her neck. Perhaps he had finally had enough of her. Maybe he had found his satisfaction in someone else. Someone that could bring him more pleasure than Casey could. Perhaps he was finally ready to leave her alone.

She was relieved.

The thought that maybe she could finally be rid of him and his games was like all the world's weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She could be free without him, happy without him.

And yet…

No matter how much she might have felt relieved, there was another part of her, one that was darker and more carnal, that overpowered that feeling. As much as her mind was celebrating, her body was screaming from the loss.

Derek had changed her the moment he had laid his hands on her and no matter how many times she had told him no, begged him to stop, she couldn't deny that he had completely dominated her. The knowledge of it was something she had to accept. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, much like his own, and both she couldn't spit out.

So, what was she supposed to do without his touch? Encounters with Sam, no matter how frequent they had become over the last two weeks, always were lacking in satisfaction. Nails raked across backs and growled phrases of "Harder! Fuck me harder!" were met with gentle strokes and loving words.

And she hated it.

Hated Sam for not being like Derek. Hated herself for wanting it to be that way. And hated Derek because it was truly all his fault and she didn't know any other way to live.

She held perfection in her hands and yet she craved

insanity.

She needed him.

Needed him to fuck her like she needed air, and it was pathetic and sick but she would gladly throw away any shred of dignity that she had left, spread her legs and beg him to fuck her into the ground if it got her what she wanted.

She could see his smirk of triumph now and she shivered.

Yes, she wanted him to make her scream his name, sanity be damned.

When it came to Derek there was no room to feel petty love, only lust that tore her apart from the inside and demanded him and only him. She was miserable with him but at least he left her good and fucked in the process, mental or physical, she wasn't sure of the distinction anymore.

It came as no surprise then when she found herself standing outside his door, lightly tapping her knuckles against the wood. He opened the door rather abruptly, an annoyed retort ready on his lips, when he noticed who it was that was standing in front of him. His frown grew into a nasty grin as he opened his door wider and motioned for her to come in.

She stood there, not really knowing what to say, how to express something that she had not planned. However, she didn't have to wait long for him to speak first.

"What can I do for you, Case?" He said nonchalantly, that grin never leaving his face. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded casually behind his head. He was the picture of relaxation, except for his eyes, which at that point were boring a hole into her.

"I…I…you haven't been around lately." She stated lamely, wanting at that very moment to be able to strangle herself.

"I've been busy. There's that new girl at school.." He trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence. She knew what he meant by that and it made her feel like a used whore to admit that she didn't care if he was fucking someone else, as long as he was fucking her as well. "Besides, why do you care?"

She swallowed. He already knew exactly where this was going. From the moment he had opened the door he had known, and yet he still had to keep playing his games. "I want…I want…" She couldn't seem to form the words. For someone who was always speaking out, she was left at a loss.

"What's that?" His tone was one of mock innocence, but Casey could her the cruel taunting just below the surface.

"Dammit, Derek, touch me!" She blurted out suddenly. In her mind she had pictured this going differently. She had pictured herself being more composed, seductive even, but this was just ridiculous. She couldn't even win in defeat.

Derek was laughing now. Laughing so hard that tears were coming to his eyes, but there was no sense of mirth there, only sadistic satisfaction and triumph. He was insane, absolutely fucking insane.

"Say it." He demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"I want to hear you to say it." He repeated calmly, already beginning to make his way slowly towards her, like a hyena stalking a wounded animal. "Tell me what you want, Casey. Tell me exactly what you want done to you and who you want to do it."

She shivered, goose bumps forming along her arms as he grazed the tips of his fingers there, his voice low, almost comforting, his malicious intent hidden from her ears.

"Fuck me."

Suddenly he was gripping her arms tight. His blunt and dirty fingernails digging into her skin and she gasped in a mix of pain and pleasure that only he could bring her. "Who? Tell me who?" He growled harshly, all traces of serenity gone from his voice.

"You, Derek. I want you to fuck me." She answered, one leg lifting to wrap around the back of his calf, as she pressed closer against him, trying desperately to gain some friction. Derek's hands slid to her waist, and she waited in anticipation as he leaned down silently until his chapped lips were pressed against the shell of her ear.

"Beg for it."

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, before she untwined herself from him and began to make her way to the door. "Hell no." Despite what she had thought before, she could not bring herself to do it. As she reached for the handle, he pulled her roughly back the arm, his deft hands quickly reaching under her thighs to hoist her legs around his waist. She was now pressed firmly between the wall and Derek, and she could feel his hardness pressing against her.

The bastard was getting off on this.

He thrust his hips roughly against her and she didn't even try to stop the moan. Of course, so was she.

"If you want it, Casey, beg for it." His steady thrusting and his hands trailing up and down her sides was beginning to cloud her mind. She wanted this, needed this. Oh god, how she needed this. Was it worth it though?

His teeth latched onto the sensitive skin of her collarbone and she had her answer.

"Please."

She felt his smirk against her skin. "Please what?"

"Please, Derek, please fuck me. I need you to." She whispered breathlessly, her desperation showing.

"Hmm," He leaned in, his breath fanning across her lips, until he stopped, his lips not even an inch from hers. "No."

He unwrapped her legs from his waist then, setting her back on the ground, and the whole time she couldn't say one word. "I have work to do, so get out, would you." He opened the door suddenly and lightly pushed her outside, closing it and then locking it behind him.

She walked numbly back to her room, too shocked to react. He had told her no. After all that, even after she had begged for him to do it, he had still turned her down.

Why? Why would he do that?

As she closed the door behind her, it finally hit her.

This was all just another game. Just another one of Derek's twisted little games for his own amusement and she had played along beautifully. She wasn't sure if he wanted her to hate him or herself more.

Her scream of outrage and disgust rang clearly throughout the entirety of the house. Afterwards, as she waited for George and Nora to come running into see what was the matter, she heard his hollow laughter seeping through the thin walls.


End file.
